Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh

‘Reckon he’s missed you too. V’s okay with the lad they’ve got lined up to ride him for the New Year’s Day race, but he hasn’t taken to him the way he did with you. And Antonio’s been complaining. He might have won the Hanley Cup, but he lost that horse to you.’

Mason smiled, guiltily pleased that Veranchetti hadn’t bonded as well with his new rider. She silently promised herself that she’d go and find him later.

‘How’s your Da?’ John asked, cutting through her thoughts.

‘Not bad.’

‘Good stock, that man.’

Yes, she agreed silently, he was, and an idea began to form. ‘Have you thought much about what you’re going to do now?’

‘Well, with Antonio and Emma all set, I was thinking of going back home. But it’s wet there. Not so great on the old bones.’

Mason shrugged a shoulder, knowing that the hard sell wasn’t necessary. John made up his own mind about things. ‘If you fancy something a little warmer, have you considered Australia? Dad would be happy to have you. If we survive the next few months, that is.’

‘I’ve heard about the set-up you have there. Helping wayward kids. Sounds like a mighty fine project you’ve got going on.’

‘It is,’ she replied, her eyes shining with pride.

‘No more races?’

‘I don’t think so. As mercenary as it sounds, I just needed the percentage of the purse.’

‘Not mercenary. Just doing what you had to do. It’s no easy thing, McAulty. But you did it.’ And for a moment Mason let the pride and respect in John’s eyes wash over her, taking away some of the sting of the present with it. His gaze locked on to something over her shoulder and by the time Mason had looked to see the Queen descending on them and back, John had disappeared. Not mercenary. Just doing what he had to.

* * *

Danyl looked over the mop of blond curls that barely reached up to his shoulder, trying to form an exit strategy. This latest, and most definitely last, cruel punishment from Angelique was it. He knew he was being punished from the series of unsuccessful dates over the last eighteen months. Not that there had been that many international social functions that allowed for such get-togethers, and he wasn’t desperate enough to be spotted by the press having an intimate dinner for two, where neither knew the other from Adam.

‘And that was when I realised that my foot had caught the tablecloth and pulled all the plates, cutlery, glasses, the whole lot from the table into the Prime Minister’s lap.’ A light giggle that sounded rather close to clinking glass poked into his thoughts uncomfortably.

‘That’s great.’

‘Great?’ Amata replied uncertainly, and he realised he’d not heard a single word she’d said. He smiled apologetically, hoping to take some of the sting out of his latest social faux pas.

‘Oh, the Prime Minister thought it was hilarious,’ she replied, giving another little giggle. Something in her tone caught Danyl’s attention, but when he looked at her she seemed just as bright-eyed and bubbly as she had since he’d first laid eyes on her.

‘Amata, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ she said serenely.

‘I know why I’m using a matchmaking service, but you...?’

She smiled, her shining eyes clearing momentarily to reveal a surprising glimmer of sharp intelligence. ‘I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you of the price we pay for duty.’

‘Is that what you’re looking for? Someone who would understand that price?’

‘There is understanding the price, and already having paid it. I believe that you are the latter. As I am.’

The sincerity in her words startled him, and for the first time since meeting her he believed that this was the only true thing Amata had said.

But the strange spell that had been cast about them was broken as his father came to meet them and Amata, rather abruptly, descended into an arpeggio of giggles, slapped him—surprisingly hard—on the arm, and told him off for being silly.

* * *

‘I really am so pleased that you came,’ said Queen Elizabeth—or Sheikha, or Her Majesty... Mason wasn’t quite sure how to address Danyl’s mother. ‘It wouldn’t have been the same without you,’ she said, taking Mason’s arm and tucking it into hers and starting to lead her around the outside of the ballroom.

Mason, as she had been from the first moment she had seen the handwritten invitation from the Queen, was a little bemused. She couldn’t see why her presence in Ter’harn was so important. Nor could she quite fathom why she was suddenly feeling like a society miss, taking a turn around the room at her coming-out ball in Edwardian England.